


The War That Never Ends

by Dragon_of_Nightmares (Dragon_of_Dreams)



Category: Linked Universe - Fandom, The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms, The Legend of Zelda: Majora's Mask
Genre: All-Night Mask, Betrayal, Blood, Brainwashing, Cults, Eye Trauma, Gaslighting, Gen, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Linked Universe (Legend of Zelda), Loss of Sanity, Mention of alcohol, Psychological Torture, Sleep Deprivation, Tags will be added/changed, Torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-05
Updated: 2020-05-16
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:40:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23027947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dragon_of_Dreams/pseuds/Dragon_of_Nightmares
Summary: Four and Wind end up being captured by enemy spies, wearing a mask meant to bring them harm. There are only two choices: to join with the enemy or suffer from the mask. The time of nightmares and suffering has begun.
Relationships: Four & Wind (Linked Universe)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 71





	1. The Metal that Clasps the Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> Keep in mind of the tags throughout the fic. You have been warned. This fic is not for the light of heart.

The air surrounding him reeked the death of an age long gone. Four remained still, forcing himself to breathe through it. His stomach twisted as he inhaled the stench of the corpses that never lingered away. Bile built up his throat. Four covered his face, hoping to lessen his overwhelming illness burning within him, swallowing the bile before it ran through his fingers.

After long, excruciating moments of getting his stomach to settle down, he opened his eyes. Four slowly rubbed his eyes at the fog veiling his vision, only to meet nothing but blackness behind it. His face, he realized, felt tight—metallic and cold to his touch. With his other hand he slid through his face. There were gaps of soft skin between the metal, but the metal reached up to his ears, pressing them sore. Four noted as his hand passed through the cold emptiness that… _something_ … was missing.

In the darkness that encompassed him, Four scanned his surroundings. His body pressed against the rough, tainted ground in which he could only deduce was in some sort of enclosed space. _Jail cell?_ He gathered that fragments of bones and skeletons scattered all around him of former prisoners who never saw the light of day again.

_Where am I? What happened to me?_

The shards stabbed through his hands and knees as he crawled towards a wall. Four leaned against the rough wall for support, lifting himself up from the ground and then gingerly walked around the room with his hand still pressed against the wall, careful not to trip with the remains.

He let the wall guide him, wary of the shadows lingering beyond his vision. He stiffened as he heard a loud moan in the distance, reaching for his back but his hand grasped at the air.

 _My shield!_ Four patted the back of his tunic where metal used to be. _The Four Sword! Where are they?_

_Where’s…where’s everyone?_

“Guys?” Four called out, flinching as his headache sharpened from his voice. He also cursed at himself—potentially attracting monsters right now. While he was unarmed.

His senses heightened to high alert as he shuffled against the wall. Four froze at every accidental kick, at every sound of debris rolling out under his feet. The shudder of every breath trembled with the force from a dragon’s maw. The responding silence did nothing to calm his nerves.

His eyes burned. Four hoped that he wasn’t alone within these walls, prey to some monster that hungered for his flesh. Someone must be out there, he thought, even if they lay beyond the confines of his cell. Someone who could rescue him, plan an escape from the prison—

There was that little moan again, now familiar in his mind. Four snapped to the voice and slowly approached the source, joined with sounds of something shifting against the ground. His eyes eventually landed on the golden locks contrasting against the murky wall, laying on the opposite side of the enclosure.

But the golden hair matted with dark stains of blood. Four’s heart jumped with the thought of death, only for his thoughts to subside as the body shifted on the ground. Four rushed the person’s side, recognizing the blue tunic and the orange pants reaching to the knees.

“Wind!” Four cried, shaking the younger boy’s body. “Wind, wake up!”

Wind groaned. Four shifted the boy to face him. He yelped back as red, bloodshot eyes glared back at him, interlocked with the metallic blacks covering Wind’s face. The younger boy remained silent. Eyes staring through Four. Wind shifted once again, breathing out his words.

“Wh-where…?”

“Shhh… Relax. You’re still injured.”

Four remained by Wind’s side, holding him in place. He waited while Wind gathered his surroundings, looking around the room that kept them prisoner. It took a few moments before Wind scrunched up his nose at the stench. “Why does it smell so bad here?” he asked. “Did something die?”

Four didn’t answer.

Wind turned his head, freezing when the red eyes landed on Four. A loud gasp. Wind pushed himself away, yanking Four with him.

“Ah! Monster! Get away! Get aw—”

“Wind!”

Wind clawed at him. Four held onto Wind, struggling as the younger-but-taller boy quickly wrestled over his diminutive stature. Wind then slammed Four to the ground, pinning him down. Hands over his arms.

“Wind! It’s me! It’s Four!”

He kept calling Wind’s name through the younger boy’s labored breaths. Wind’s grasp on his arms loosened, hands shaken by the thought of harming a friend.

“F-Four?” Wind cried, his voice as shaken as his hands. “W-what happened to you? Y-your _eyes.”_

“I was about to ask the same,” Four breathed.

Wind lifted Four from the ground. The two took a long look at each other, like staring at a mirror with a curse on their faces. The red eyes on a face as young and innocent as Wind unnerved the older hero. Then there were those triangular-shaped marks that ran on the bottom of the mask, curving up to form a fanged smirk on top with the crazed eyes.

It was no wonder Wind mistook him as a monster…

“You’re wearing a mask,” Wind finally said.

“So are you.”

Wind put his hands on his face, gasping as his fingers ran through metal. “Who put this on us?” Wind tried to pry the mask off his face, but the mask didn’t budge. He tugged on it harder—and harder.

Then he screamed.

“Wind!”

Four yanked Wind’s hands out of his face. Tears flowed from the sailor’s face, turning the bloodshot eyes even redder.

“W-why does it hurt? Why does it hurt my eyes?”

Four gulped. Just the way the metal clasped the eyes open told him everything now. He squeezed the sailor’s hands, their tan contrasting against the ghostly pale of his own, soothing Wind while his eyes recovered. The tanned hands replied, clasping Four’s tighter.

“Four, I can’t see you anymore.”

“I know,” Four whispered. His own eyes begged for blinking, fighting helplessly against the metal that held them tight. “I’m still here.”

The two boys squeaked as something shrieked loudly near them, followed by a slam against a hard surface.

“You two are finally awake.”

Four turned around, shifting his body to cover up Wind, a hand still holding on to him.

“Wh-who’s there?” Wind whispered.

Four followed the sound of the footsteps and tensed with the thought that it belonged to a foe—the steps spaced evenly with a lack of rush behind them, of someone taking their sweet time.

Four’s eyes landed on feet wrapped in cloth in the distance, rising up to meet a cloaked figure as dark as the walls with two glaring green eyes flaring at them—a stark contrast to the black void surrounding them.

“Our master wishes to see you.”

* * *

The robed ninja led the boys through a dim corridor lit with colorful flames that could only be spectral in nature, matching the unnatural bright eyes of the mysterious being. Four and Wind walked, katanas poking their backs but were otherwise unrestrained. Four held Wind’s hand, guiding him through the hallway and warned him of any cracks and stones in the ground due to his current blindness—Four hoped it wasn’t permanent.

The corridor became brighter. The spectral flames increased in their frequency and intensity, burning and yet somehow chilling Four’s core. Wind shivered beside him, the wavering shifting over to his arm. Wind lifted his head, looking around as if he could see the brightness of such lights and a gasp of awe escaped through his mouth.

“Are we getting somewhere?”

The ninja shoved Four and Wind, cutting off any future conversation.

The two continued walking down the corridor as it opened itself to a room befitting for a master, filled with walls similar to the interior of the sword-training dojo tilted with a golden shine. A large scroll filled with words spread vertically through the wall at the back of the room, the Hylian letters unfamiliar to Four.

A mat lay in the front of the scroll. On the mat sat another cloaked being, dressed in satin crimson, gradient in their light as he rose to his feet. He wore a golden mask. Black dotted holes made its eyes and a long pointed end that made its beak. It was nothing like the one behind Wind and Four, with the dull, rough fabric covering the body.

“Master,” the cloaked ninja behind them said. Four no longer felt the katana held against his back. Wind too, relaxing his hold from Four’s hand. “These are our newest captures. One of them has attempted to take off the mask.”

Four shivered. With the mask the master bore an emotionless, lifeless expression, unable to be deciphered even with Four’s observant skill. For all Four knew the master could be glaring at Wind for his actions, thinking about dealing a deadly punishment for his defiance.

“Will these two serve us?” the ninja master asked.

“The short one fought back with valor, master.”

Four bit his tongue. The open slices and cuts on his armguards showed how well he did in that regard… staining them dark with his blood.

“What do you want with us?” Wind asked, voice cracking.

“We will make a deal,” the master asked, kneeling down to Four’s and Wind’s height. “If you work with us we will relieve you from the mask that binds you. If you don’t that mask will make you suffer for the rest of your nights. Release them!”

Four’s face breathed. The mask that clasped his face tight fell to the floor, clacking loudly and echoing in the room. Wind’s mask followed, leaving the sailor with a relieved sigh and multiple blinks to calm his burning eyes. Four blinked too, each blink cutting like metal shards flying to his eyes.

“Think carefully. We want you to spy for our nation against the Ikana Kingdom and gather us information. When you’re done we will set you free with no repercussions. Does that sound fair?”

“What makes you think we’ll do it?” Wind argued. Four nodded along, although the tactician in him knew better.

“Persistent, aren’t you? I thought I’d be doing you two a favor.”

The master drew his blades, lit aflame. Its radiating heat flared towards Four and Wind, short of burning their faces as the blades pointed towards them.

“I am the Garo Master.”


	2. The Spies of a Nation Gone

Sunlight scorched the earth white. The air, still filled with the stench of death, then painted the world of nothing but solid rock and ground. Little weeds sprouted by a river, bringing back what little life remained to the still canyon of Ikana.

The river ran across the hill—through a water wheel out to the edge of the canyon. The waterwheel belonged to a house washed out of its bright color. The musical horns jutting from the roof played a dissonant track, its notes broken and distorted—a far, dying crying from the people who once lived there and brought its music to life. The land now belonged to the crows and the Garo.

“Are you sure you want to do this, Four?”

Four had returned from his preliminary survey. He scooped up the water flowing from the cave spring and sipped it, his eyes locked out to the hill. Wind washed his eyes, soothing out whatever discomfort remained from the mask.

“Four? It’s blurry but I can see.”

“Good,” Four squeaked. Cleaning his throat, he repeated, “Good. Keep taking it easy.”

“You never answered my question.”

Four frowned. His eyes remained staring out to the world of light. “We have to do this,” he whispered. He scanned the cave, watching out for any eyes hiding in the shadows. Stone pillars around the spring held up the structure of the cave with one hanging from the ceiling right in the center, as if waiting to crash down right into the spring and drown the cave within.

 _I don’t like this as much as you do, but we have to,_ he wanted to say. _It’s our only chance to be back with them._ But he didn’t speak.

The Garo could be listening in the shadows.

“You sound like you have done this before.”

 _“What?”_ Four cried out, eyes widened as he faced the sailor. “What makes you think that?”

Wind just shrugged. The younger teen’s dark eyes remained unfocused as he stared through him. “Wait.” Wind shuffled through his tunic. He then gasped when his hands came up with nothing but air. “The charm!” he cried. “The joy pendant! They’re gone!”

Wind then patted around his waist. “The spoils bag! My pouch! They didn’t just take our weapons. What else did they take from us?”

Four gasped. His hand jolted right to his ear instinctively as he recalled that emptiness from earlier. “My earring,” he muttered. “The Minish earring is gone…” He pulled back his hair, the green headband that once held it was gone too.

Four checked for the rest of the items on his person. He cursed at himself. The chain holding his four kinstones had vanished. Along with it was his own pouch containing all his arsenal of items. He checked his hood, praying that the tassel was still attached…. No… it wasn’t.

 _Ezlo._ Four gripped the end of his hood. The tassel that made up Ezlo’s beak was taken too… the only memento he had of his former companion gone. With a sigh Four went to Wind’s side, informing him of the items he himself lost.

“Are we truly defenseless?”

Four closed his eyes. He had only one thing remaining. A really small thing. But he needed a way to activate it—a broken stump or some cracked stone—otherwise it was useless. He nodded. “Yes,” he said, remembering that Wind hadn’t completely healed. “We can’t fight back the way we are now.”

“I’m sure we can!” Wind cried.

“Not when you’re blind,” Four retorted. “Besides,” his voice lowered to a whisper, “they might be listening to us.”

He held Wind’s hand, squeezing it tight. We only now have each other, Four thought. Can’t afford to lose you. “Let’s go,” he said. “We bring what the Garo want and worry about the rest later, alright? Just keep your eyes closed. I’ll keep watch.”

“Are you sure, Four?” Wind asked.

Four squeezed his hand tighter. “I’m sure.”

“I—” Wind shut his eyes. He then sighed. “Alright. I hope everyone else is doing okay.”

Four lifted Wind from the ground and guided him out of the cave, still holding hands. With his free hand Four shielded his own eyes. The sun’s intense glare burned at the seams of his vision.

They walked through the shallow river, warm enough to transition them from waters to the blistering rocky canyon under their feet.

“Is that a music box?” Wind asked.

The distorted notes still played in the air nearby. The house did indeed look like a large music box, Four thought, and his curiosity piqued.

“It’s a house,” Four answered. He turned to face Wind and gasped, noticing a sign behind him and a ramp leading up to an entrance.

Four ran up to the sign, yanking a yelping Wind with him. Only for… being unable to read the sign.

“I forgot,” Four muttered. “We can’t read each other’s Hylian.”

“Can I see?”

“No!” Four blurted out. “I mean, not with that sight!”

“We have to try if we want to get out of this!” Wind called out back. “Maybe there’s something inside. Or maybe not. But Four, I have to try it. I might be able to read it.”

Wind opened his eyes. His hand immediately flew to his eyelids, shading them from the sunlight burning through. It took a few moments of adjustment before his face met the sign, his nose almost touching the plank…. Four didn’t like it.

“It’s in Time’s Hylian,” he said. “I think I can read it.”

“You think?” Four asked.

“I have learned some ancient Hylian before I left Outset,” Wind replied. He began to read, slowly uttering each word as he squinted his eyes on the sign. “Hmm… Spirit House… We’ve prepared… wandering spirits… and are awaiting… your arrival? I think that’s what it says.”

“I’m not liking this.”

“Me neither,” Wind said, straightening up. “But maybe whoever’s inside will give us answers. We can’t lose out on this.”

Four frowned at the words. The idea of wandering spirits beckoning people never sounded like a good one. He didn’t know if Wind had fought any Ghini or similar ghosts. But he also recalled that he had followed the ghost of a former king… King Gustaf.

One question remained from the sign: waiting for whose arrival?

“Four? Are you joining?”

Wind had already reached the top of the ramp, leaning against the frame of the doorway. Four followed, joining Wind as the two boys entered the house meant for spirits. Worry in Wind’s eyes told Four a message:

_If there’s danger we run._

Within the house, however, lay empty. Unlit torches stood on each side of the entrance, their flames long burned out into ashes. The outdoor sunlight provided enough for Four to make out the shape of the room. A crate covered with a red cloth with golden embroidery awaited them. Behind it lay a large fence running through the area between walls. On the other side of the fence, Four realized, was just an empty, small, rectangular room with no exit.

“A prison?” Wind asked.

“I believe so,” Four replied, gripping at the wired fence. “I’m not liking this. I wonder where those spirits are.”

“The wandering spirits that once resided within have long found their peace, Link. Or is it Four for you? Eee-hee-hee…”

Four and Wind jolted, eyes widening as they met a figure wearing white cloth and a purple cloak overhead, holding a large stick as support as he stood on his bare feet. The figure also wore some sort of blue belt with some strange red embroidery on his waist. The scariest part about him was the red glowing dot glowed within the void covering his face (was it an eye? Four didn’t know).

“Who are you?” Wind cried, putting himself in front of the smaller hero. “I won’t let you harm Four!”

“I thought my soul would have finally found peace, but I have sensed a disturbance the moment you arrived,” the cloaked man said. “I find it interesting that you two carry the same spirit and name as the boy who once saved this land long ago… but no longer. The spirits of the Garo have become restless.”

Four and Wind locked eyes with one another. Someone (who wasn’t the princess) who knew about the spirit of the hero was unprecedented. Wind shifted closer to the shorter hero, facing the bizarre spirit.

“I mean no harm,” the spirit said. “The boy who saved the land years ago can attest to that, but that’s not the matter here. I sense him nearby. The Garo sense him too.”

“So we have to find who this guy is and bring him to the Garo?” Four asked. “Why?”

“The boy holds the secrets of the sacred temple. Good luck finding him. Yee-hee-hee!”

And with those words, the cloaked spirit vanished into the thin air. The thought of who the boy could be suffocated Four. Sharing the same spirit… _it had to be one of the other heroes!_

Wind apparently had the same thought, turning to Four with wide, fearful eyes. “We can’t let the Garo harm any of them!” Wind cried. “We have to—”

Four hushed Wind, covering his mouth. He gave the sailor two slow, affirmative blinks before pulling his hand away from the sailor. “I know,” Four whispered. “Remember, we’re still spying for them.”

* * *

Their next destination was the musical house calling them from the heart of the canyon. The struggles of the house’s past greeted the two young heroes: of chairs turned to their heads; of the table broken down and its once-white cloth ripped apart, stained with wilted flowers; of the cactus knocked into the ground with its pot smashed into pieces and soil smeared on the floor; and of glass and pottery shattered and scattered, leaving traces of traps against the heroes. Four carefully traversed through the glass when he found something that caught his attention. Amidst it all lay a frame—a picture of a little girl patted on her head by a man, presumably her father.

Four slid his hand through the fallen frame. Memories of his father and grandfather surged through his mind, how they both patted his head in the same manner when he was younger. He missed them, Four would admit. He missed them.

“Four, look.”

The short hero took the picture out of the frame. He then folded it and saved it within his shirt under the four-colored hoodie before turning back to the sailor.

Wind pointed to a bloody trail running down the stairs. The two boys followed the dark trail, leading to a large pool on the basement floor. Four shuddered at the amount of dried blood beneath this once-vibrant house. Wind followed on it, crouching by the bloody pool before lifting his head to Four. A frown appeared on his face.

“We need to find out what happened,” Wind said.

“Of course.”

Wind and Four sent out to investigate the basement. Stacking on one another, large boxes with circular depths caught the smith’s attention, wailing the musical notes and vibration from their mouths. Some sort of musical boxes, Four thought. Its apparatus unknown and new to him. What wasn’t new, however, was the winding key sticking at a wall overhead, turning at irregular intervals. Four knew it needed fixing. To his right there were those long, linear holes on what Four could assume was some kind of ventilation system.

Four followed the rail running down the wall. The wall, he realized, wasn’t the real wall. Behind it spun large grinding gears, creaking as they tried to keep working without any assistance. The rest of the machinery behind the rails, Four realized, was how the music operated on their own outside the house. Such mysterious technology… yet he found some comforting familiarity from his smithing. Such as the pincer and wrenches he found laying on the floor. Tools he was familiar with.

And there lay a turned-over closet at the end of the room.

“Four, come here.”

Facing back towards the stairs, Four noticed the rips of paper on the stairs’s side. The shape of them meant they were ripped by force, not by a meticulous ripping from the owner of this house. Beside it stood Wind, in front of a desk with a book on it.

“It looks like there was a picture or two once hanging on the walls,” Wind said, grasping the edge of the desk for composure. “But that’s not what I’m worried about. I need to tell you what the book says.”

“Wind, you shouldn’t—”

“Shouldn’t I what? Read? Because of my eyes?” Wind yelled. “I’m the only one of us two who can read the Hylian here! We don’t have anyone else to depend on! Four, trust me!”

Wind turned back to the book. He sighed, grasping the desk tighter. “It’s a miracle this book remained unscathed. It has information on the Garo.”

“Really?” Four approached Wind, his eyes landing on the book.

“Yes,” Wind began to read. “The scientific name is Garo Robe. They’re ghosts of ninjas who are merely shells that are empty on the inside. They’re the shells of spies from an enemy nation sent to investigate Ikana. They have been unable to forget their living days. Even now their spirits—emptiness cloaked in darkness—continue to spy.”

Four found himself with a chill crawling on his spine as Wind spoke the last words. Now the glowing eyes under their cloaks made sense: they were spirits. Spirits still investigating for a war that may have been long over. They were now fighting a war that may never end.

And they were caught on it.

“Wind. We have to find the others and leave.”

“W-wait!”

Four yanked Wind upstairs and out of the house, ignoring the protests of the taller hero who had successfully pulled a stop several times in his tracks (this was one of the downfalls of being the shortest, Four groaned at the thought). But the stubbornness in him kept fighting, kept pulling Wind amid his protests and pushed the door open.

Forgetting the ramp of the entrance.

Four tumbled over, taking Wind with him rolling on the canyon ground. The two coughed up from the dust floating around them, blinking their eyes when familiar blades suddenly met them.

“What have you found within those walls?” the robed Garo asked.

“W-we haven’t found anything!” Wind yelled, still coughing. “T-the house’s ruined!”

The blades hovered over their faces for a few long moments. Four breathed heavily against the rapid rate of his heartbeat.

Four flinched at Wind’s crying in pain behind him.

“And you. Have you found anything?”

“We-we didn’t! We swear!” Four’s higher-pitched voice quivered.

His breath hitched as the Garo pulled his blade, contemplating a few moments around the boy. Four tensed, tightening his arms and legs closer to his body.

Four then cried in pain as the Garo kicked his side, rolling him through the burning canyon. He clenched his jaw, hissing through the pain as he looked up towards the void against the glaring sun.

“You two better not be lying to us. We are watching you.”

The Garo jumped and vanished into the air, leaving Four gripping at his injured side, watching over Wind who also suffered the same fate.

“T-those ninjas,” Wind groaned, pushing himself from the aching ground and then shook off his burning hand. “Are you okay, Four?”

Four pulled himself from the ground with Wind’s helping hand. “I’m fine, thank you.”

The two boys looked around. There was no one else in this desolate land at a glance. Four had long suspected it from his survey earlier in the day, but with Wind by his side he realized how… lonely, despairing, this place was. A land in which the remaining souls were restless spirits thirsty for blood and revenge….

Four shook his head. He had to be stronger than this. He wasn’t alone. He had Wind. It wasn’t the same as working with yourself, but in some ways he was glad.

“Four?”

“I’m fine,” said hero replied. “I just don’t like this place.”

“Me neither.”

Wind walked to the river beside the house, soothing up his burned hand and washed his eyes once more. When he was done he returned to the other hero. Four held Wind’s hand once more, although this time it was more out of his comfort than Wind’s.

Were they the only living people in this land? With his free hand he grasped at the red quarter of his tunic. _Red._ Four thought of his emotional side grasping control of his… well… _emotions._

But there wasn’t _Green, Red, Blue,_ and _Vio_ anymore. All that remained was _Link_ . All the parts made up _him._

Four swept the thought out of his mind. The younger hero didn’t need to know. They needed the reassurance they would find the others and that they would be all right.

As if the goddesses had answered his plea, Four heard barking in the distance. On the other side of the river a beast emerged out of an opening from the castle wall.

_Twilight!_

“Wolfie?” Wind whispered. He gasped as the wolf ran towards them. “Wolfie!”

Twilight dashed through the water, stopping short of tackling the two boys and instead bumped his head into them. Four and Wind hugged their friend, not caring about his fur soaking their clothes.

Twilight stepped back, sending a worried glance their way. He whined.

“I’m sorry, I wish I could understand you,” Four whispered. _I can only understand you in Minish size._

“Wolfie is worried about us,” Wind answered, petting his head. “I’m sorry we made you worried. We’re fine now! We promise!”

But the wolf kept whining, unconvinced of Wind’s words. Instead he growled, turning around and shifted his pose, sensing a threat nearby.

“I think he senses the Garo,” Four said to Wind.

Twilight’s ear flickered. The wolf walked, circling and sniffing a certain spot of the ground. He kept circling the area, as if sensing _something_ was there, but couldn’t see it. Four gulped at the thought that the Garo was right there, waiting for the right moment to strike.

“Wolfie, let’s not worry about it,” Four called out. “We need to go back to the others.”

Twilight turned to Four, as if he heard the faltering of the small hero’s voice. The wolf bumped into Four once again before leading him out of the edge of the canyon. Underneath awaited a few of the heroes at their make-shift campsite. Sky, Hyrule, Legend, and Warriors.

“Where are the others?” Wind asked. “Where’s Time, Wild, and Twilight?”

 _Twilight’s right here,_ Four thought, but couldn’t voice it aloud. “I think they might have been looking for us. But how do we get down there?”

Twilight barked at him. Four met the wolf’s straightened posture, tilting his head, beckoning the hero to ride his back.

“Wind, would you mind riding him?”

“What? Are you crazy?” Wind met Four’s most serious face he could manage, and then the sailor sighed. “Wolfie, can you handle it?”

Twilight nodded. Wind carefully mounted on the wolf, afraid that his weight would break his back. Twilight groaned at the extra weight, but otherwise maintained his composure as he approached the edge of the hill. His eyes locked on a wilted tree on a lower cliff at the other side of the gap.

“Wind, hold onto him tight,” Four said, patting his back. “It won’t be pretty.”

With his grasp tightening on the fur, Wind held his breath and nodded. Twilight readied himself and jumped straight to the lower cliff, and subsequently jumped once more to the lower valley towards the other heroes.

Four watched as Warriors, Hyrule, and Legend all stood up and yelled out Wind’s nickname, running towards him as Wind dismounted from the wolf. Warriors gave a tight hug to the young boy, embracing him tight and Four could imagine the tears flowing from his eyes. The other three also joined in for the hug.

Twilight had already reached back to the top of the cliff, nodding to Four and beckoning to ride on him once again.

Four chuckled. “I hope the sailor didn’t do too much to you, Twi.”

Twilight rolled his eyes in response.

Four quickly mounted Twilight’s back, holding tight onto the familiar, comforting fur of his friend.

“Let’s go.”

Twilight jumped off. A brief, brisk breeze swept up Four’s bright blond hair to the skies. His bangs bounced back to his forehead as they landed on the ground. Four chuckled, sweeping the bangs off his eyes. He then dismounted the wolf, grinning as the others greeted him with yells of his nickname and the eventual group hug from the quartet.

And they crushed his ribs.

“Four!” they all yelled. Said boy merely wheezed in response, gasping for precious air.

“Guys! He can’t breathe!”

One of them—Four couldn’t tell who—released him from his embrace and allowed him to breathe. The remaining three slowly lowered him back to firm ground.

“Where have you been?!” Legend yelled. “We’ve been all worried about you!”

“I—” Four paused. His eyes flickered to Wind behind them. “I don’t remember much. We woke up in a cave and set out to find you guys.”

“That’s it?” Legend snarled, but Four heard the wavering in his voice. “I thought those ninjas would have done worse to you. They must be stupid if all they did was kidnap you only to set you free just like that.”

Everyone frowned at the veteran’s words. Hyrule, Sky, and Warriors turned to the short hero, as if disbelieving his own words—perhaps something happened even if Four and Wind themselves didn’t know.

But they did. And it wasn’t something the others needed to know. Not yet.

* * *

After Time, and Wild (and Twilight too, Four reminded himself) returned from their search in the late afternoon, the group sat bombarded Four and Wind with questions—questions about their disappearance. Their captors. And most importantly, their equipment.

“Where are your swords?” Time asked.

Out of everything the Garo took from his person, Four cursed at the thought leaving the Four Sword with them. He could leave everything else behind—as inconvenient as it was to adventure without them.

The Four Sword on the other hand…

“It doesn’t matter,” Four replied. He’d worry about it later, when they were better prepared. “I’m sure we can get new swords.”

Time’s glaring eye narrowed in suspicion. Four turned away, looking at Wind for support but he shook his head.

“We need to get our swords back,” Wind said. “How can we still be heroes if we don’t have weapons to fight them back?”

“Fight who?”

The air stiffened. The six other heroes tensed at their leader’s low tone. Eyes landed on the young boys.

“Four. Wind. Is there something you aren’t telling us?”

Four gulped. He lowered his head, facing the ground as not to meet any of the glares and shameful looks the others radiated on him.

“T-those ninjas who took us away,” Four answered. “We still don’t know what really happened. Or what they want from us. But they might have them!”

Time folded his arms, humming deep in thought at Four’s words. “As I suspected… they’re the Garo.”

Four and Wind gasped. “The Garo?”

“They’re spies sent from an enemy nation…” Time explained, his voice low and dripping with every word. “There was a young boy who carried the mask of their master, summoning them for clues and laying their spirits to rest as he sought out for the final temple. The ninjas were honorable, guiding the boy to what was an impenetrable stronghold. And the boy succeeded.”

“Do you know who that boy is?” Wind asked.

“Wind, I think we know.” Four’s body tensed, sensing the shadows lurking underneath. As if a certain shadow alerted him beneath his boots…. “Guys! Get ready!”

Just as everyone besides Wind and Four drew their weapons, the Garo appeared out of nowhere, surrounding the heroes.

“You two have done well. Leave them to us.”

“No!” the two heroes yelled, standing in front of Time, their arms spread wide.

“You’re not taking him away from us!” Wind cried.

“I think I know what’s going on,” Warriors muttered. “Everyone, defend Four and Wind!”

The seven remaining heroes surrounded them, shielding the two with their backs. Weapons at the ready, the seven stood a stance at the ninjas, awaiting for any slight movement. While the two younger boys watched helplessly.

_“That won’t be necessary.”_

Then, as if his own shadow had been disturbed once again, Four locked eyes with the ground, twitching for any sight of movement… some sort of threat underneath. Four gasped.

Perhaps the Garo came from the Dark World!

“Four? Four!”

Four screamed. Pain surged through his back once again as the shadows swallowed him once more, consuming the screams of everyone around him into a deafening silence. Screams of everyone calling his nickname.

No… Not just Four.

Someone screamed his name. His real name.

_“Link!”_


	3. The Night Which Never Sleeps

They were back at square one.

Yet despite the familiarity of their cell, somehow the death within burned through Four’s lungs. He was suffocating. Gasping for breath. Pleading for fresh air in this dense dark world.

_“Four! Four! Wake up!”_

He had his eyes open, hadn’t he? Why was he only seeing shadows? Where was Wind? Why couldn’t he see him?

_“Link. Calm down.”_

The shadow’s voice choked him. Deep echoes within his mind screamed in recognition, after years of longing and eventual acceptance of death. No. No. It couldn’t be.

His vision fluttered—shadows flickered in and out of shadows. Darkness spoke to him, whispered his desires. Desires long forgotten brought forth within the reaches of his mind.

_“Four! Please! Wake up!”_

Four sought for the shadows. The voice calling him faded into silence as whispers turned into shouts, overwhelming his heart. He kept searching and searching, reaching out for the shouts despite the headache and heartache that followed. Four shouted back, screaming out _his_ name among all the voices that joined in conjunction.

Only one voice shouted above the rest.

_“Link. Open your eyes. Idiot!”_

Four froze. The voice pushed forth _that_ side of him. That side where emotions meant little and kept his head evened. Four took deep, calming breaths and the silence deafened him from the world and his mind.

_Link. Think!_

The shadows. The darkness. The voices. Four stepped back, infuriated with himself for falling into their schemes. He kept breathing, pushing out the whispers with his own thoughts.

Darkness gave way to the only light in this room, revealing Four’s hand holding onto the collar of the sailor’s shirt.

“Link! It’s me! It’s Wind!”

“W-Wind?” Four gasped. Red eyes met him once more, nothing like the dark green of his friend. The only comfort Four had was when Wind embraced him tight, crying out uncontrollable giggles.

“You’re alive!” he cried.

“Wind? I’m fine.”

“I thought I lost you, you idiot!”

“W-what?” Four backed away from the younger boy. He just… stared at Wind, disbelief burned in his mind. He yelped at the sharp pain all over his head, still throbbing from the imposing choir of voices all over him.

“Four, you alright? You were so out there I thought I couldn't wake you up!”

Four shook his head—argh! Terrible idea! A yelling knife stabbed through his ears. Four flinched when Wind approached him, the younger boy grasping his shoulders.

“W-Wind. I-I need a moment.”

At the boy’s nod and release from his shoulders, Four breathed, holding his own head in prolonged silence. His eyes burned once more… but he didn’t think it came from the mask he wore again. No.

Four let the tears flow out of his eyes.

It hurt to think about it. How delusional he was to follow such that’s bound to get him killed. He could imagine the others berating him for it—even as long gone as they were.

The others…? Four wasn’t thinking about the other Links. He wasn’t thinking about Wind, who was right in front of him. He wasn’t thinking about Time, nor Twilight, nor Wild, nor Sky, nor Hyrule, nor Warriors, nor even Legend.

He was thinking about Blue, Red, and Green—wait. Vio, Blue, and Green. No! Vio, Red, and Green? Or was it Vio, Red, and Blue?

Was he being Vio? Shouldn’t have he known better than to chase after shadows in search for _him?_

Or was he being Blue, who should have let his anger speak volumes about the situation.

Was he Red, who got too emotional for something he knew he wasn’t real?

Or was he Green, who should have been in charge of his own mind?

Was he even _Link?_

“Four! Look at me. Breathe!”

He met at the boy’s eyes—no. Not the eyes. The shirt. The white lobster depicted on the boy’s shirt. How the shirt remained as clean and as colorful as it did despite their situation was a mystery, but a welcomed one.

“Listen to me. Follow my breathing. In for four. Out for four.”

 _Four._ Four slowly inhaled and exhaled, counting on each color as if it were a number. Inhale: _Green, Red, Blue, Vio._ Exhale: _Green, Red, Blue, Vio_.

They were Four…. They were Four….

He was Four.

“Link. Come here.”

Wind wrapped his arms around the shorter boy, pulling Four’s head towards his chest. Four held onto the sailor’s shirt, grasping it tightly as he felt the other’s heartbeat. He felt Wind rubbing circles on his back, comforting him as he heard the shhh from Wind’s breath.

“I shouldn’t have left you alone. You were hyperventilating.”

Four kept breathing, following the boy’s rising and lowering chest by his side. It was this moment he wished he could close his eyes and sleep in this boy’s arms.

But he remembered the mask.

“Is the boy finally awake?”

Four stiffened. He lifted his head from Wind’s chest. A young woman’s voice echoed in the presence of death and her footsteps approached them with a rhythmic pace. The arms around him tightened, pushing Four closer under Wind’s cocoon.

“You’re not getting anywhere near him!” Wind yelled.

Still, the footsteps got louder and louder until they reached by Four’s ear. The woman knelt by the boys and the cocoon around Four constricted into an enclosure, almost blocking the woman from his view. She set down a tray filled with bowls down to the ground and started to speak in a monotonous tone, not looking at either of the boys.

“Master was displeased with you both.” The woman set the bowls out of the tray one by one, almost as if her hands were a machine. “You are fortunate Master doesn’t want to execute you right away. You both have done well and Master doesn’t want that to go to waste. Here, eat this. He will see you in the morning.”

The woman stood back on her feet. She set out her way out of the cell, not even sparing a glance to the boys behind her. Four inwardly growled at how such person could be uncaring to their condition.

“Wait!” Wind yelled. “What about these masks? What do they do?”

She paused. “It is your punishment for displeasing Master.”

Despite Wind’s protests she had vanished into the shadows. Four groaned, pulling himself away from Wind’s hold and the grasp around him loosened. The calculated, mechanical movements and voice unnerved him—too surreal to think she was even human.

Four slid himself aside from Wind and grabbed a bowl. He frowned at the burnt lizards within it, picking one by its tail and showing it to Wind.“I wonder if this is all they have to offer us.”

“I don’t think so, look.”

Wind offered his own bowl. It consisted of cooked pieces of fish (or at least that’s what Four could gather based on the parts) with something green wrapped around them. Wind picked up a piece, observing and rotating it as if he were solving a puzzle. Four didn’t blame him. After all, they didn’t know if the food was even safe for con—

He yelped as Wind bit the piece.

“What are you doing?! That could be poison!”

Yet the boy ignored him, chewing the piece in his mouth before swallowing it. Wind paused for a few moments, savoring the taste before speaking. “Seaweed. Do you want to try?”

“No!” Four replied, backing off. “I’m _not_ going to try something that’ll most likely kill us!”

In Four’s bewilderment, Wind shrugged and continued to eat the fish. “You’re right.” Wind smiled. “But we’re strong guys! I’m sure we’re not going to die of food poisoning!” He laughed towards the ceiling, as if taunting the very goddesses that put them through this fate. “We will live through this! Remember, we’re heroes! Right, Four?”

Four smiled. Yes. They were going to get out of this.

* * *

The heroes came up with a plan—a small plan but still a plan. The two reserved their food and water, only taking small chunks every once in a while. Neither of them knew when— _if_ —the woman was going to serve them food again. And smaller chunks meant that if either of them got sick it was less likely to be fatal.

In the meantime, Four walked around the cell, looking every nook and cranny of any openings and cracks where Minish possibly could live. They had to exist in this world, right? He recalled Wind finding a rupee under cut grass.

“Hello?” Four called out. He had lowered himself to the ground, observing an opening large enough that a Minish could fit into it. “Is anyone there?”

No Minish greeted him. On the other hand, legs crawled out of the opening one by one, revealing a tarantula. Four jolted back, letting the tarantula scurry away into another crack out of the cell.

He sighed. Well… better that than the Garo for sure. The small hero continued looking, calling out for the Minish in hopes that one of them might be able to help them out.

Wind stood guard by the bars, ready to warn Four if he saw anyone coming. Four thanked the goddesses that they had each other—he wouldn’t last being alone without whispering to himself, wishing he still had the other parts of… well… himself.

With a sigh, he called out to Wind. “Anything new?”

“No.”

Four groaned. He approached the iron bars themselves, gripping one with a tight fist. “If only we still had something to break through those bars,” Four muttered. “Those Garo are smart. I wish we had magic like Hyrule now.”

“If only I still had a bow and arrow,” Wind muttered back. “Or my power bracelets,” he continued, pulling back his sleeves to reveal his bare wrists.

“Same here.” Four lifted his armguards, worried at the state of his arms. His shield arm, especially, was wrapped in some sort of cloth he did not recall having from the previous encounter.

“The lady did that when you were out,” Wind explained.

Four frowned. He didn’t want to see the cuts and bruises that awaited under all that cloth—if they were so bad that it had to be patched up by the enemy. After replacing his armguards, he walked away from the bars. There wasn’t any point of remaining there if they couldn’t do anything.

“Four, wait!”

Wind grabbed his shoulder and he jumped. Four turned to meet the sailor, who had pulled his hand away as if he had accidentally hurt him.

“Four.” The younger boy’s voice was filled with guilt. “I forgot to tell you something, but thank you.”

Four gasped. Out of all the things he expected Wind to say, _this_ was really low on the list. “Thank you? For what?”

“You don’t remember, do you?”

_Remember what?_

Scrambling through his memories, Four only remembered being surrounded by the other heroes until he was dragged by the Garo. Everything after that led straight to the whispers and the shadows… nothing that Wind would thank him for—unless he meant the food but it was him who thought of the plan, not Four. When Four shook his head, Wind’s frown faded into the confines of the mask.

“You fought back.”

* * *

The whispers were back. They now held the taunts of the Garo, besting a hero chosen by the goddesses. Four didn’t recall. He didn’t need to—the night spoke it all to him.

He wished he could close his eyes, sleep them off his mind until the wake-up call came, but he knew that even without the mask sleep wouldn’t come to him easily. Whether the mask was a blessing or a curse in comparison he didn’t really know.

Whispers of illusions fade away. Dreams of traumatic memories don’t.

To pass the time and keep his mind off the world, Four sat on the floor with Wind and began to tell tales, also eating the fish and lizards as snacks. He told tales of grandeur of his first journey where Chuchus were as tall as towers and Octoroks were the size of mountains. Wind answered with tales of his own: Octoroks swallowing entire ships and ghost ships haunting the oceans they called home. They traded turns, drinking water and taking breaks whenever their voices became hoarse, keeping in mind of their provisions.

Another person called out from outside the cell, telling the duo that the meeting was delayed; The Garo master had other business to attend. The new attender refilled the food and water, telling the boys they’re meant to last for the day before she left—something the previous woman failed to mention.

So with the new day coming out (Four hoped), the two heroes kept going with their tales. Four told the tale of being up in the sky, walking among the clouds and flying through whirlwinds and air currents. Wind beamed like the sunshine despite the gloom surrounding them.

“Please tell me more!”

Four laughed. His laughter reached the deepest corners of the darkness and bounced back towards them like music. “Alright. In the Palace of Winds I fought these formidable enemies called Gyorgs—”

“Gyorgs? Like the sharks?”

Four choked. “Sharks? No! They’re nothing like sharks!” He laughed again. He imagined Wind’s Gyorgs swimming in the skies like the Cloud Piranhas, just slightly larger and perhaps a little more threatening, but nothing like the actual Gyorgs he fought. “They’re flat, like a manta ray,” Four continued, recalling the aquatic animal he had learned in a book. “There were two: a smaller blue one and a much larger red one. I had to ride on their backs as they flew, making sure I didn’t fall myself while I hit their eyes. For the larger one I had to—”

Four paused. _Split?_ He shook his head. No. That was not right. _Create illusions of myself?_ Technically… that was right, but it didn’t feel right when those illusions became something much more as the sword became stronger, especially because he had to…

“Four?”

“… rely on the power of the Four Sword,” he finished lamely. He didn’t miss the _huh?_ from Wind’s mouth, tilting his head in understandable confusion.

“The Four Sword has magic,” he explained. “I used its magic to defeat the Gyorg.”

“Why are you telling me now?” Wind asked. “I thought you said you didn't like magic swords?”

“I never said I didn’t like them.” Four sighed. “I just didn’t want any more surprises after _that_ did something to me.”

After that, the storytelling stopped. Four felt bad for the tension he caused to Wind, as if he expected more bitterness coming out of Four’s mouth. With the mistrust of his own sword that he bore the name of, Four didn’t blame him. He stood up and walked around the perimeter of the cell and Wind ended up humming a melody to bring life to this everlasting silence. But soon enough even the bars blended into the walls and Wind’s humming turned into noise in the background. The cracks and opening merged into solid rock.

Four didn’t know how much time passed since—between the lack of sight, the lack of sleep, the lack of motion, the lack of life. The eternal silence brought the whispers back into a cacophony of choruses crashing among one another. The pain in Four’s head spiked once again, stabbing through his mind into an audible scream.

Wind rushed to his side. His voice faded into the noise. Four found himself focused onto the lobster of Wind’s shirt, grasping at the only uncorrupted image vibrant with life.

“Don’t you…” Four took a breath. “Don’t you hear them too? The voices?”

He couldn’t listen for the response. Whatever Wind intended to tell him got swallowed by the seas of screams and the ocean waves crashing into his heart. Even his own eyes—which he had tried to ignore all this time—burned with the intensity of Gleerok’s flame.

“Stop! Goddess-damnit!"

Taking deep breaths didn’t help him. Even the darkness the world spun around, where the ceiling became the floor and the floor became the sky. Four felt like he walked in the air—nothing like the Cloud Tops. The only weight he had of this world was of the kid helping him slide off his feet, with his back leaning towards a wall for support.

The kid then brought him a full bowl of water and tried to convince him to drink it all—all plans aside. Four sipped a little of the water before shoving the bowl back to Wind. “Save it, kid. You’ll need it more than I do.”

“Don’t ‘kid’ me!” Wind yelled, pushing the bowl back to Four’s side and some of the water splashed out into the four-colored tunic. “You almost fell!”

Four growled. “I told you to save it!”

He shoved too hard, knocking Wind back and the water completely spilled over. Furious, Four stood back up and stomped to the bars, in spite of the dizziness waving over him. He clutched a bar he wished he could dent and break apart. Wind followed behind and yelled at him, but Four ignored him—he had more important matters to attend to.

“Cowards!” Four shouted. “Show your faces! You had told us we’d meet us in the morning!”

The cowards. No one responded from the other side of the cell. Even the whispers that drove him insane vanished like the Ghini. Four slammedhis head against the bar, earning a yelp from the kid and another headache for himself.

“How much longer we have to wait?”

“You need to calm down first.”

“I am calm!” Four blurted out. “You’ve seen nothing.”

He was glad that he couldn’t see the kid well through the mask. Despite how little the mask showed, he could still see how shaken Wind was.

“Fine,” Wind said. “I guess I’ll leave you alone.”

“Wind! I-I don’t mean—”

“I don’t want to see how you’d look when you’re truly angry.”

Four paused. Wind had already long left to hide in the shadows but the words stung as if he still stood there. Four just stared at the mere space, the air stiff and frozen in Wind’s place.

Sometime later, Wind started to whisper to himself.

* * *

The walls closed in. What had once seemed to be worlds apart they now fell inches from Four’s face. Yet as he reached out they never came within reach. Sometimes Four swore he saw _his_ face in the corner of his eyes, but it vanished as soon as his eyes flickered the corner into focus. Four wanted to stand but even on the ground his head wavered with lightheadedness that even food and water couldn’t fix.

Wind was somewhere out there behind those walls. Four listened to his distinct whispers and occasional mumbling, as if he was speaking to someone else. Sometimes yells of surprise and laughter rang in Four’s ears. Whatever Wind was doing to entertain himself, Four wished he could do the same. Words slurred and ran together whenever he spoke as if he drank a full bottle of alcohol.

Why had he never drank it again? It never sounded so good until now… Four shook his head. Of course, because everyone viewed him as a kid—even the actual kid himself. It was hard to believe—for others at least—that Four could be a tad older than Wind for a few years despite their height differences. Taller didn’t mean always older.

“Let me introduce you to Four,” Wind said. “I hope he’s no longer mad.”

Wind phased through the walls and sat beside him. Four smiled. Words had long escaped him. Wind still somehow got the energy of a kid who had taken a nap at some point during this lockdown. But Four knew he couldn’t. Not with that mask.

If only he could close his eyes and rest….

“Remember what you asked me earlier?” Wind asked. “About the voices?”

Four frowned. They had disappeared for a long while—if it was even that long. Sometimes he heard whispers, whispers of voices he barely recalled. Voices he should recognize as well as his own. And he couldn’t recall his own voice.

“I hear them.”

The blood moons loomed over his head. It felt as if they could fall at any moment and Four wouldn’t have minded… if it meant rest. Said moons blurred and multiplied like little poe lanterns, floating around….

“Hey, Four. Don’t give up on me.”

“Hmm?”

“I said, don’t give up, Link. It’s almost over.”

“What do you…?”

“Sunlight is almost up,” Wind whispered. “They said so. And they’re coming.”

Four sighed in relief. He didn’t know how but he found himself buried in Wind’s arms.

Dawn was finally coming.


	4. The Hearts Quenched by Darkness

The dawn had finally come and the two were finally sent out from their enclosure after two excruciating days (or it could even be more or less. Four lost sense of all time and anyone could be lying). But the duo faced the imminent threat of the Garo Master once more.

Crimson red from his robe casted all its light into the room, turning the room into blood. Four wavered on his feet as he stood in front of the master, imagining his own blood leaking with the countless others that have faced this monster and failed. His own blood splattered among the robe and the walls behind them.

The lack of sleep took its toll on his mind. And body. The chill pierced his bones and Four trembled as if he were in the snowy peaks of Hebra. For him to be standing right now took all of his willpower. And that was quickly cooling down.

In the corner of his eye Wind stood beside him, shivering nervously (or perhaps in anger) as he also stared up to the master. Red burned his face.

“You two have done well,” The Garo Master spoke. “But I am disappointed about how you treated your own partners. Especially you, little one.”

“Me?” Four whispered. The master's mask preyed upon him like an eagle, eager to strike. Four did his best not to flinch under the glare.

“Although I do commend your strength given your age,” the master continued. “Despite that hindrance... I believe you are ready to join the Garo. Under my own terms. Understood?”

Four and Wind kept their mouths shut, answering only in the silences of their courage and defiance.

“And I thought I was giving you a favor by relieving you of these masks. Is this what you really want?”

“We'd rather get stuck in that rat-hole for the rest of our lives!” Wind snarled. “Our friends will save us! I know they will!”

The meaning behind Wind's words didn't register in Four's mind, already blurred into incomprehensible noise as whispers started up in the back of his mind.

“Please,” Four whispered. “I need it to stop.”

He heard a loud yell beside him, words too faded to make out. Four struggled to remain on his feet, trying not to collapse and pull Wind with him on his chains. He then heard another noise... of a lower, growling voice right in front of him.

As soon as his face breathed the world went black.

* * *

A wind within calmed Four’s mind as he arose from his slumber. It felt... odd... as if the troubles that lingered his mind suddenly disappeared. Well-rested. The first thing he noticed was... how soft the ground under him felt. No longer did the world reek of death. And for once he felt he could _breathe._ Still... his eyes burned and eyelids weighted heavily over them. Four rubbed them, but it was as if he was streaking glass across them. He stopped.

“Are you awake?”

Four followed the owner of the voice, registering that it didn't sound like Wind but still like someone around his age. Another young teen captive in the hands of the Garo. Four growled—it wasn't a dream.

“Don't sleep too long. Master will be disappointed.”

“Master?” Four called out. He opened his eyes despite the pain, and through the blur he met dark hair and an unrecognizable face. "Who are you?"

“Master calls me Hitori,” the new person said. "Has Master given you a name yet?"

“What? No!” Four stumbled to his feet, only to crash onto the hard ground below. The soft ground, he realized, wasn't soft ground at all but a bed. He'd been sleeping on a bed... “H-How?” he asked aloud.

Hitori didn't answer. “We need to get ready and eat breakfast. The meeting starts at noon.”

Four ignored the boy, scanning the room despite being unable to see the details. Besides the two beds perhaps intended for him and Hitori, he found some kind of thick circles on the corners of the ceiling. He growled. They were too far for his current vision to make out what they were. He hoped to remember about them later, once his vision cleared up.

Speaking of impaired vision....

“Where's Wind?” Four turned to the other boy. “Where's my friend? Where is he?”

Hitori was already headed out for the door when he paused. “Friend? What a strange word. We have no friends here. Only foes. You must trust no one. Only Master.”

Four stared. The kid was as helpful as the Garo, but his words made him uncomfortable in a way that the Garo had never done so. He followed Hitori—he knew waiting in this room was useless if he wanted answers. Something had happened with Wind.

Hitori led him to the dining hall in silence. The dining hall was just the size of their bed chamber, where about twenty people around the room, young teens and children, sat down on the floor. Despite the blindness, Four saw that everyone but him wore the same dark robes the Garo wore but without their hoods, downed on their backs. They all glared at him, meeting at the bright and colorful newcomer who stood out in the middle of this darkness. Four ignored them.

The two found empty spots at the back of the room, joining the others tightly as they touched shoulder-to-shoulder. Four took a deep breath. He could easily be targeted among this group of identical kids, but he said nothing.

Waitresses joined and they served each one a plate of food, turning weird looks at Four but otherwise one served him along. Four just stared at the food and he felt nauseous staring at mashed dish of stuff he didn't know.

“Go eat,” Hitori whispered. “It'll do good. Master won't allow us to go hungry.”

“What if I don’t?” Four asked.

Hitori turned at him wide-eyed, as if he had insulted a god.

_“Don’t push it.”_

Four looked around, looking for the owner of the voice, but all he ever met were the others already eating their dishes. Even Hitori started to eat his as if he never spoke to him. The silence was clear: do or die.

_Who are you?_

Four began to eat. Although it didn’t taste _bad_ , just the sheer thought of working for his enemy made him ill to the core. Wind being missing didn’t help matters either. Each bite tasted like bile and Four choked.

No one cared, Four noticed as he struggled eating. He’d be dying right now and they all continued as if he was in another plane of existence. A ghost. A mere shadow from a different world.

 _No!_ He swallowed the food with all his might. _I won’t think of Shadow Link like that!_

_“You just did.”_

Four bit his tongue.The voice didn’t taunt him… just sounded… amused? and disappointed. He didn’t remark on it—everyone else was done while he still had over half of the food on his plate. They all waited, as if no one could leave without him. Perhaps they couldn’t. Perhaps there was a timer.

Four did his best to finish eating. A bell chimed and Hitori nudged him to stop. The waitresses returned, each picking up the dishes. Four met the one from the first night, the one who bandaged his arm. Taking a closer look at her face, he noticed the woman held a strange mark on her cheek, as if she was branded with it.

The mark of the Triforce? _Why?_

He didn’t ponder much as everyone stood up at once and he followed. Whoever led the group was coming. He was—as much as he hated it—among them.

* * *

The Garo escort led the group from the depths of the caverns into another chamber still in the underground. A chamber where the Garo had their meetings. It was much larger—the size of his Hyrule Castle’s courtyard. At its center lay a stage platform. The others, including Hitori, lined up with systematic perfection that it had to be rehearsed and practiced, with everyone knowing their exact order and spot on the platform as if they were trained cattle. Four frowned.

The only lights in this room were the chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, lit with the same multi-colored flames Four recalled on the visit with the master. A hole from the ceiling also set its spotlight at the back of the room, presumably lighting up exactly where the master stood.

“Follow me.” The escort took Four around the stage, bypassing the rows of robed people as he was taken to the front. They never gave a glance at him.

The escort shoved Four to the front, into the spotlight, blinding him in a flash. His vision then slowly unveiled the shadow of the master, searing the ire will of the Garo.

 _“Don’t. Say. A word.”_ The shadow spoke again. _“Look, I know how you’d love to fight back, but after last time? I don’t trust you’ll win.”_

_Again, who are you?_

Thin, wrinkled hands clutched Four’s shoulders. The master swirled Four around, forcing him to face the audience. The robed people in the front row stared at him, hiding under the shadows of their hoods. Their mouths blank lines, under stiff, unmoving bodies.They stood like statues, with dull, soulless eyes piercing through his vision.

The master’s voice boomed, echoing from the depths of the chamber: “We have a special announcement today. A new member will join our clan.” His nails clawed through Four’s tunic. “A new life for sore eyes. I now shall welcome you. Under this roof your name is granted by my word. It shall be so.

“Under my divine power, your name shall be _Shi.”_

A few quiet gasps escaped from the audience, coming from younger members of the audience, perhaps children. The older members remained still, lifeless. The Garo Master kept speaking, ignorant of his people’s reactions.

“The new apprentice will join us shortly. In the meantime you shall wait while I do some preparations.”

The escort carried Four away from the spotlight and the audience, towards a new room hiding back in the darkness. He left Four alone with a woman that awaited him, and attended him with clothing neatly folded in her hands. “Here,” she said, then she pointed towards one of the many holes in the walls. “You’ll change your clothes there. Return to me with the old ones and I’ll dispose of them.”

Four entered one of the holes, watching as the woman turned away from his view. He unfolded the robe, it looked specifically tailored for one his size, much shorter than the average at age sixteen. He tugged at his tunic, feeling the fabric he specifically tailored for himself. _Do I really have to take it off?_

He decided against it, even if it meant going against the clan’s rules. Instead, he put the robe on top of his tunic, reminding himself of the picture crumpled within it. It’d be warm, maybe too warm having all those layers, but he’d rather not lose everything that gave a resemblance of who he was, if he was to remain strong while the others searched for him and Wind.

_Guys, where are you?_

Four breathed, adjusting his robe so that none of the bright colors stuck out into view. He covered his face with the new brown hood, wishing he had a mirror to compare how similar he must be to the others. If the Links couldn’t differentiate him from the crowd…

“Are you done yet? The meeting restarts in five minutes.”

He left the hole, dragging the ends of the robe through the floor. The attendant turned around, greeting him with a wide smile as she glanced at his robe.

“That looks perfect on you. You’ll fit just right in.” She extended her hand. “Give me. Where are your old things?”

“I’m sorry, ma’am,” Four replied. “I’m wearing it under this.”

She frowned. “It’s underneath? What are you doing with that thing? Take it off.”

Four dared to ask, “What if I don’t want to?”

The woman gasped. “Don’t you know what you’re asking? Disobeying the master is a deed punishable by death! These clothes are not important. What’s important is to live by the master’s standards.”

Four shook his head. “This tunic is important. I can’t just go get rid of it.”

“I don’t see how that’s more important than living here,” she exclaimed. “If Master finds out we’ll—”

“What’s the commotion here?”

The escort stared by the entrance. The woman straightened, cleaning her throat as she saluted him. “The boy is ready, sir. I don’t want to keep him any longer from our master.”

“And the clothes?”

“I have already disposed of them,” she said, through clenched teeth.

Glowing eyes glared, but the escort left it at that. He handed Four a piece of paper. “Memorize it,” he said. “That’s your identification in the clan. Don’t lose yourself.”

Four tried to read it. He had forgotten he was in some other era where such lettering didn’t hold meaning for him. _What does this say?_

“Let’s go.”

Four was taken back to the meeting chamber. He now noticed some engraving on the platform, with each person perfectly aligned on top of each symbol. Except for one. They were either letters or numbers, signifying columns. There was a set of steps at the front, but the escort circled Four around towards the back again, likely customary with how everyone else climbed up to the platform.

Swallowing, Four climbed up the steps and walked through the middle, taking note on how each person stood inside a circle, with two symbols to signify each spot. His paper had four, if he’s not mistaken. But he couldn’t find any circle that had all four symbols. Maybe he had to look for one that matched the first two? Still, none of the empty circles matched both of the symbols.

Four then reached the front. He scanned the last row one last time, then found himself comparing with the second circle to his right, double, triple-checking with his paper. They matched. And on a closer look, the faded symbols within the circle also matched with the last two. He had found his spot, in the front row where the master could watch him and Four had no choice but to watch.

“Now everyone, welcome Shi. G one zero seven.”

_G107_

Those were what the symbols represented.

Everyone on the platform turned to him and bowed. Four bowed back, glancing up nervously at them, hoping that he didn't mess up. But everyone faced the front again, waiting for the master's next words. Four did too, trying not to show the displeasure on his face.

“Among those who join us, there will also be those who oppose us,” the Garo Master spoke. “Today is such a day, where the sunlight decided to strike our dark world. But don't fear, such light shall in time turn into the night.”

The Garo Master snapped his finger. Suddenly, in the spotlight, flames bursted into life, then immediately quenched into the form of the familiar blue sailor.

 _Wind!_ Four desperately wanted to scream, to run himself from the spot and hold him in his arms, yet he firmly held himself in place, frozen as a statue as he observed the younger hero's condition.

Wind was on his knees, his head tilted towards the ground with the mask's eyes ever open. He was breathing heavily. His blue tunic ripped apart to reveal bruises and cuts, stained red from open wounds. His hair much worse than before, matted much thicker with blood and dirt it no longer resembled blond.

“I… I won't give up,” Wind said through his heavy breaths. “They... they will find us.”

_Wind..._

“And Four... Four will never join the likes of you!” he spat at the master.

The master just stared, perhaps amused under his expressionless mask. “Very well. I'm afraid such claims are unfounded, for your little brother did indeed join us.”

Four tried to keep the flame within his heart from flaring with emotion, intensified with the ocean waves crashing with fury.

He took deep breaths, tearing up as he had to watch one of his closest friends gasp in shock at the revelation. He had to keep himself grounded.

 _Betrayal..._ Four imagined that must be running through the younger hero's mind.

“You’re lying!” Wind spat again. “He would never do that!”

The Garo Master snapped his finger again. A click and the spotlight vanished from Wind’s spot. Then another click, a smaller light encapsulating Four’s spot perfectly, putting him straight in the limelight.

“G107. Reveal your face.”

Four stiffened. The eyes of a monster now stared back at him, watching intently over the face of a scared child. _Forgive me, Wind._ He pulled the hood off, freeing his tangled blond hair and light blue eyes—the unmistakable face of Hero of the Four Sword, into the other boy’s view.

“Four?!”

The robed boy bowed his head, shutting his eyes to stop his watery eyes from leaking. “It is me,” his voice wavered. “I have joined the Garo.”

The Garo Master’s deep laugh taunted his mind. Wind’s desperate cries cut into an arduous and agonizing scream. Four wished he could shut himself from the world, to wake up from this nightmare even as the spotlight faded under his eyelids.

“This is what happens to the enemies of the Garo.”

Though he saw only darkness, Four couldn’t help but envision the master’s flaring blades scorching through the sailor’s skin, burning and ripping him apart as the screams intensified.

Four was afraid of opening his eyes.

“I-I won’t join the likes of you!”

The ground was cracking, its foundation shattering as Four wanted to burst out and _scream_. Scream to Wind to stop defying! To stop getting himself hurt! To join him and spare himself from the torment! Wasn’t that why Four joined? Wasn’t that why Vio sided with Shadow, to uncover the enemy weaknesses from within? Couldn’t he do the same here with Wind, and give themselves time to breathe from such torture?

If only Wind could read his mind!

Four covered his face again, letting the tears fall and stain his clothing.There was nothing he could do, as his hands held nothing but air, useless against the torturous devices of the Garo. What did courage mean in this scenario, if he couldn’t wield his sword to defend himself and protect others?

_“Hey, Link! You listening?!”_

Four snapped his eyes open. Wind panted heavily, chained with metallic shackles at a wall in the back of the chamber. The master now the center of everyone’s attention once again.

“The boy shall remain here for the rest of the day. By nightfall he has to decide whether to live by the Garo or die by the night. Only then the will of the boy shall fully reveal itself.”

The master paused, observing each member standing on the platform. No one dared to speak, or raise their hand for questions. All followed a silence of indisputable acceptance. And Four did too.

With a nod, the master spoke again. “Today is the day of the blood-stained emblem, so you shall rest and resume activities tomorrow. Return by midnight for a reminder of our code. Understood?”

A flicker of the lights and the Garo vanished without a trace. _“The meeting is over_. _You’re all dismissed.”_

The members dispersed from the platform. Four stood still, shivering as he watched the limp body of one of his closest friends chained against the wall. _No... he couldn't be..._

Listening closely, Four could hear the heavy breathings coming out of Wind's chest. Relief, however brief, settled in.Four didn't care that everyone else seemed to return to their respective hallways while he stood out, standing still in the middle of an emptying platform watching his friend, _his supposed foe now_. If only he could talk to him...

"Hey."

Turning around, Four saw that one of the robed members approached him and bowed. "Shi, welcome to the clan," Hitori's voice sounded somber, nothing like how he greeted him with this morning.

"T-thank you." Four bowed back. Quietly, he asked, "What do we do now?"

* * *

It was back to the room where Four first woke up with Hitori. The thought of being back in the bedroom made him nauseous, sick with the words he had spoken hammered into his minds, words that sealed his and Wind’s fates. Four covered his mouth. _Why was I so weak?_

The room, although much more comfortable than the jail cell, still kept him prisoned. The four walls encased him in a box, with a stranger so accustomed to the Garo’s way of life that Four feared for his own. How long? How long will it take before he succumbs to them? How long before _Wind_ succumbs to his?

 _Link, stop that!_ _You’re both strong! You can do this!_

It also didn’t help he felt he was being watched.

Four looked up again. The circular shapes he saw above were inscribed with faces. Masks, he thought, with glowing eyes of the spies watching behind them. The Garo were always watching, and here was the proof.

What did it mean about the voice? Did he work for the Garo too?

Four’s eyes turned to his roommate. Hitori lay down in his bed, robe and all, with his eyes closed to the world. “You’re going to sleep now?” Four asked.

Hitori nodded. “We stay until it’s time for supper,” he answered. “The night of the blood-stained emblem means we cannot be outside during the day for our safety. Legends say that a red jewel was created to commemorate those who perished creating the Stone Tower, after a curse sent them falling to the sky. No one knows exactly what happened, but we all fear the temple there.”

Four held his breath. _Wait, temple? Time had mentioned something about a temple!_ “Please, tell me more about it.”

Hitori shook his head. “That's all I know. Master said that asking for new information is bad for our minds.”

“Well... I do need information if I want to know how this tribe works.”

Hitori opened his eyes. “The word of the master is the law.”

Four groaned. He turned away, trying to control his increasingly exasperated breath. _How can anyone live like this?! Is asking really that difficult?!_ He took a deep breath, trying to calm his screaming thoughts before trying again.“Names.” He breathed again. “What about my name? Why am I called Shi? Can I know about that at least?”

“Your mind must be filled with unwanted thoughts,” Hitori commented behind him, and Four was a statement away from taking off his hood and pulling his hairs out. “Don’t worry, Master knows what he’s doing,” Hitori continued. “He can start cleansing you tomorrow. He will erase all those questions and thoughts from your mind.”

Four’s hands had already grasped the fabric of his hood, stopping short when Hitori’s words registered his mind. _Cleanse my mind,_ he emphasized each word, making sure he heard correctly. He faced Hitori again, but he couldn’t observe his features hiding in the shadows. _Erase my thoughts?!_ “Did you really say that?!”

_“Yes he did.”_

“But why?” Four asked. “Why—”

“Master knows what he’s doing,” Hitori repeated. “Stop talking now. We should be asleep by now, we don’t want to make Master mad. He’s always watching us.”

Hitori shifted around, his back now facing a shivering Four. The small boy paced around screaming out all his frustrations in his mind: the kidnapping, the torture, the coercion, the brainwashing, the ever-lingering threat hanging over the heroes. Four collapsed in front of his bed, his fury turning into tears staining his mattress.

Four sobbed, clawing at the bed. He knew he had to keep himself strong. For himself. For Wind. For everyone in the entire history of Hyrule. But right now the odds were not in their favor.


End file.
